A collection of short stories, articles, and poems intended to entertain, inform, and consider.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

MASON DIXON

Mason Davis woke up to the biggest headache in history,
or so she thought. The clock on the nightstand read 6am. She let out a moan and
turned to lie on her back. She stared at the ceiling, trying to remember last
night’s events. She slapped the roof of her dry, pasty mouth with her tongue;
she needed a big, cold glass of Coke. She lie still, her breathing labored, her
head heavy.

Wait a second.
Where the heck am I? She reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. This is not my bedroom. She managed to
drag her legs to the side of the bed and put her feet on the floor. She stood
up. Her head throbbed and she fell to her knees, holding her palms at her
temples until it passed. After a few moments, she hoisted herself up and went
to the window to open the curtain. Her reflection stared back at her and she
realized that she was naked. It was breaking daylight, the parking lot was
full, and the Rocky Mountains loomed over the motel. She closed the curtain and
looked around for the bathroom. She froze when she saw a hump on the bed. That is definitely not a pillow under there.

“Shit!”

The hump stirred.

She tip-toed to the bathroom and gently closed the door
behind her. It felt good to relieve her bladder. She found her purse and found
that everything was in order. She took two Tylenol. Her phone was dead so she
couldn’t call a cab. She didn’t even know what part of town she was in. Her
clothes were hung up on the bathroom door hook and she checked her jean
pockets. She found two business cards. One was for The Banff Inn and the other
must have belonged to the hump in the bed. The card read: Bobby McLaren, Fire
Restoration. As she repeated the name, a flood of images came to her.

She had gone out with the girls from the office after
work. They had found out that it was her birthday and they wanted to take her
out for a few celebratory drinks. But, of course, one drink led to another and
another until they partied the Friday night away. She remembered Bobby and his
two associates had joined them at the table. But how she got to the motel was still
foggy.

She got dressed and decided that she was going to sneak
out. She slowly opened the bathroom door, listening for any movement; nothing.
She spotted her shoes and jacket on a chair near the door and made her way
there, stealth mode. There was a click when she unlatched the door, but the
hump in the bed stayed still. She went out, slipped on her shoes and jacket,
and ran for the motel office where she used the phone to call a cab. She then went
to the far side of the building so that if Bobby, or she hoped it was Bobby—she
couldn’t see the hump’s face—would not see her if he left the room. A few
minutes later she was on her way home. A roadside sign read: Calgary 125kms.
She closed her eyes and slept.

Mason’s dreams, as always, were haunted by visions of her
husband—the man she thought she knew—and the life she left a year ago. In her
dream, a dark figure followed her from the corner store, where she bought the
same Marlborough cigarettes and the same Doublemint gum. As she would get
closer to the door of her apartment building, the footsteps would get louder
and closer, and just as she would turn around to look, the figure would jump
back in the shadows, just out of sight. She woke up with her head pounding and
wiped the beads of sweat that had formed under her eyes. The cab driver glanced
back at her from the rear view mirror.

“We’re almost there, Ma’am, another few minutes.”

Mason looked out the window and recognized the view of
the TransCanada Highway. When she first came to Calgary she made many trips to
the mountains, trying to forget about her life in Brampton and the lying,
cheating prick that she had been married to. The drive to Calgary had been therapeutic, and
seeing her younger brother and his family was wonderful. She had stayed with
them for three months before closing a deal on a condo at Montgomery Place on
1899 45 Street West. Northern Calgary was beautiful, and it didn’t take long to
get used to the city. It took her less than a week to find a job; she was hired
at the Calgary Herald, writing for the Life section.

Every Sunday for the first six months, she would drive to
Banff and hike the trails, trying to rid herself of the heartache of the
divorce, and trying to understand why he did it, why he cheated on her. She
wondered if he had felt any remorse. Nightmares of the police chasing her for
beating up the girl still haunted her, and the images of them from the basement
window was fresh in her memory. She had to go to the doctor to get Valium. With
Valium it was better, with Valium there were no nightmares and sleep came.

After making friends with several of the Herald’s
employees, she became confident again. She was a great person with a friendly
and happy personality. Nothing kept her down for too long. It was easier when
you had friends to talk to and do things with. She felt like she was finally
letting go and living life again, and her brother and his family gave her a
sense of belonging, something she had been sorely missing.

The cab stopped in front of her building. She paid him
with a credit card and gave her thanks. Hunger pangs jabbed her stomach and the
smell of fresh coffee was mesmerizing. She found herself sitting at the counter
ordering a cup and a full breakfast, all the while praying that she wouldn’t
throw it up.

When she finally got home, she took a shower, and went to
bed. By the time she to up it was evening and the chill of the September air
made her put on socks and a pullover. She got up, ran some errands, and watched
an episode of Supernatural on Netflix before bunkering down for the night.

At work the next morning, a large bouquet of red roses
was on her desk. The card read: Can I see you again? Bobby. A tiny smile formed on her face. Looks like
Mason was going to make it after all.